Thursday, May 14, 2015







Through the looking glass, they watched her. She was broken for a while. Oh, they sure know all the sequence.

It started out in a night so cold, always the perfect medium for an exchanging of words like such; a dialogue of two opposing ideas and impressions. Two that will never blend. Almost like the diversity in rationality between science and religion. Neither parties had a clue of why they even started their story, if only they knew it would eventually end in such a way. But they were both humans. Irrational in some cases. They take a chance on everything. But perhaps they are always forgiven for taking a chance on love. It is the ultimate thing they actually ever live by anyway.

The young lady took a step out of the vehicle. She entered her room to find herself stuck with her wonders and questions until only God knows when. Poor little one. In daytime, she would seek for love and something in contrary with the negative  beliefs and speculations she would run through at the end of the day.  She was hungry for comfort. She was never alone, but would always feel solitude when dawn took place. She would then be impatiently waiting for the day to turn and see the coming daylight. Even though the pressure on her eventually diminished, she knew she would never have her logics as straight as it should until she found the rational answers she wanted.

Up here, they knew she needed a hand. As much as she tried, she still couldn’t find any down there on earth. So out of the two watchers, the one with the highest reign up here sent the other watcher down to get her out of her very own limbo. A place she owns that can only be seen by herself and the ones up here.

+++


She started to feel like someone was always watching her. At the canteen, out on the streets when crossing the road, at places where she hangs out with her fellow humans. The oddness never really bothered her until one day, her eyes met the watcher’s. She would usually look away when getting caught in such situations. But for that one moment, she was willing to study his stare. It was fierce, but it wasn’t mean. He wasn’t smiling, but it was warm. It was sharp, but she felt nothing was cutting through her. It was probably someone she once met, but he was just up to the primary level of acquaintance; never crossed her mind after their one and only encounter.

It turns out he was someone known by one of her close friends. The next thing she knows, introductions and small talks occurred all over again. She thought it was either deja vu, or both of them probably forgot they’ve passed by each other a few times. But he knew it wasn’t anything like that. He had just jumped in the scene, embodied a vague memory, familiar enough to gain her acceptance as someone she’d like to let in. It was really, just for the sake of protecting her and guiding her until she gets it right.

He started doing his job. Day by day, she started feeling that comfort. She felt protection. She started observing the two sides on everything. She discovered that a tremendous wreck could have a side so luxurious and beautiful but is only available to those who wanted to look beyond. She learned what patience really meant. She became an expert in dancing. She started to dance to everything that made her happy. Since everything was in the form of justice, equality, and happiness up here, that was probably the things the watcher instinctively portrayed to her. Because of that, she started noticing one thing she hadn’t seen in a long time. Sincerity. It was always there. There on his face, in his touch and in his words. It shone so bright every time she was with him, that she couldn’t help her curiosity. She wanted more of him. She knew there was something more about him she did not know. She knew he wasn’t the kind to lie, or to hide anything from her, but she felt like there was something she was meant to discover herself.

Little did she know, that curiosity she went through, was the human’s definition of love. Love was curiosity followed by care and the need of giving and receiving comfort. She fell right through without realizing it at first. The watcher couldn’t have known better. But as all the gold he is, he’s never been through the experience. He hadn’t anticipate the danger of coming into their world. He was in confusion. He was either too focused on his mission or… probably got carried away.

The human ways started to affect him. He too, was learning why some worldly things became very enjoyable to the people. He started being curious himself. Her curiosity was contagious, and he sunk into it more every day. Quicksand. He was having fun. She felt less protected but it was fine as long as he was there. All he needed to be was there. But the more he looked like he was learning new things that should be fundamentals, she started assuming that he was not one of her kind. He was something else. Absolutely too good to be alive anywhere around her. He was humanly stupid. But she liked that in some way. Perhaps she liked how he was so different, yet so understanding and so giving, both in terms of compassion and knowledge. She then realized it wasn’t love that took over at the first place. She then realized he was just someone that needed to be there for her, to wake her and shake things off for her to continue a life with true meaning. And she just had to be the one to find him. Out of anybody she could meet, she just had to lock her eyes with his once upon a day. They were brought together for something. But did the other Watcher planned for this to happen? How in the end, he made her very needy of him? How in the end, he had to fall off track and got a taste of her ways of doing? How in the end, they had fallen for the pleasure of friction?

But when they were busy figuring things out for themselves, it was time. The span of duty was on its verge and they let things slip without warning. They were too busy in confusion, that they forgot every living thing is based upon time.  Time start things, ruin things, heal things, and of course, stop things.. even their story. Though she came out of the regimen bold, strong, wiser and more resourceful, she wasn’t prepared for a goodbye. Neither of them were.

Their eyes met for the last time, but right then, she looked away. He kept staring as if trying to suck up memories from her to keep for himself as he never had such experiences. This time, it was fierce and wasn’t quite friendly. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were cold and glazy. His stare was sharp, as if he was shooting arrows her way. But as for her, it was good that her eyes remained far from his way, for then she could be beat by those blades.

+++

He didn’t come for no reason. She didn’t want to take all the things he gave to her for granted. So, she started to do as practiced. She let her heart grow big and forgave. She looked beyond the unfavorable matters and tried to smile. She was like the moon who began to  appreciate the presence of the sun and the stars. She was like a child who was eager to touch everything around her. It became her delight to express feelings and ideas. She kept a little piece of grief, but she didn’t let it get in her way. She smiled as she looks at the luxurious side of memories and became grateful.





The March
5/14/2015 06:22:00 PM

The March

Sunday, January 18, 2015





Once, there was warmth.

I enter the room, everything white. The room is two stories high. A skylight lit up the room. Brisk blue is above you. Four walls painted in lily-white encloses. Photographs rest on their surface. Four walls have them in black frames. Plain and simple, no need of embossment. Its aim is to draw focus on the image it contains.

One side of the room holds images in black and white.  They captured portraits of laughter and scenes as if the presence of the camera was unnoticed. Another side holds colorful pictures of landscapes; places gone, places admired and places that compose stories. Destinations. Some, were home. Greens and blues. Splats of red and some yellow spots. White cotton balls and all colors in neon on a black page. It all reminds you of all the things you could do, you can do. And things you probably would do again. Next to that wall, there's this wall. The plane I stand twenty-five inches from after entering. This barrier lets me in through a walnut door. A wall lantern sticks out on each of its side. Unlit. Turning my sight to my left, I see the wall scattered with polaroid pictures. The prints presents soul. Eyes, mouth, and hands. You could tell how they were moving without real motion. You could hear sounds of conversations and tunes without a catch of vibration. You even see moving scenes in your head. How lively it was, you feel too.

I've been to this room quite a few times. Whenever I decide to come, I just come. It's always there. Always ready to let me in. Anytime. Just like any other time, there's a long wooden table in front of me. Twenty-eight feet to be round. Familiar faces sit on a massive old dead trunk that lies on the floor, on each long side of the table. They all turn their heads my way, with the warmest smiles on. It's as if I was the one they've been waiting for, disregarding my unpunctuality. I scooted myself in between two fellows, not taking the spot at the end of the trunk bench.

We go through stories, we let out laughter every now and then. I am mostly glad we have the room to ourselves, for we are frolicking in expression uncontrollably. It is like a bash, without the sound of guitar and drums, and movements that follow along with their beat. No real music, no real dancing. Our dance is the gesture of our hands from elaborating, the music is the laughter itself. But all of it could get you sick and drunk if you lose focus and begin to think it's nonsense, unconciously dismissing yourself.

We are served joy on our plates. Some ordered comfort and a couple others ordered trust. We didn't swallow our meals whole. Some likes to share. Some would ask to taste a bite. And by the end, we are full of savories. We decide to munch on dessert. We all have jellos. Clear and transparent white. But to our surprise, each of them tastes differently. Mine tastes like chocolate swimming in hazelnut cream, with crumbs of crackers floating every here and there. Not too warm, not too cold. Just how I like it. The person on my right has jello that gives a jolt of berry flavors. Sweet once it touches your tastebuds, then stings in sourness right before you ingest it. I enjoyed the first part, but not so much after. But maybe that's how this person likes it. That's what makes this individual happy.

Our cups were filled with thick black liquid, almost like ink. I find it thrilling, gulping down a dose of refreshing liquid. Though iceless, it becomes cool once it touches your throat. Not so much of its appearance describes its taste.

Inside, I'm full of all the liquid. An amount needs to be leaked. I don't want to excuse myself right this moment. But I have to go. Dismissing my self, I exited the same door I went in through, expecting to come back with someone who misses my story, waiting for the sequel to be told.












To be continued..





Beautiful Trance (Part I)
1/18/2015 02:28:00 PM

Beautiful Trance (Part I)

Wednesday, January 14, 2015






She had dreams.
She had painted the meadows blue
She had tinted the ocean green
But she didn't realize there was more than switching hue
But sure, she had dreams.

...


She thought she had dreamt.
She could've whisked through pink fields
She could've floated in apricot sea
Although it wasn't quite an attempt,
Oh, she had dreamt.

...



There could be a wilder sphere
But she kept moving in a direct current
Glee is spread other than here
But she's still stuck in the current
Keeps dreaming, but oh, has she learnt?


...



She continues dancing with feet buried in dirt
What a fool,
Choosing to wander in a bare desert.








Sand Dunes
1/14/2015 11:23:00 PM

Sand Dunes

Sunday, March 23, 2014








The sounds, the movements.. they surround me
At first they dance, ungracefully.
Then, before I could process an image,
I feel flashes, bright flashes strike my eyes
These individuals are needles trying to prick me
They leave me dazed as they present their show around me
Funny how I take up much horror as they glide peacefully
My head orders to grin, but I feel the face scrimage
With hate and doubt, how will good rise?

The sky, the ground.. nothing in between
All I see is the flashing
All I feel is myself and the sharp touches
Well how nice, at least I can feel myself.

All I do is wait here.
I wait.
I mute myself.
My mind wanders off to to pick up an amusing finding.
My lips start to follow orders.
Oh. I think I'm staying.
Rather would I.
Here. In Dream.
Traum
3/23/2014 01:32:00 AM

Traum